Poison Quills & Hidden Memories
by CretianStar
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart is on the road to fame, but Rita Skeeter is both an obstacle and a stepping stone. M Rated one shot


A/N: Weird one shot but I think these two definitely crossed paths and I think these two would be the sort to hook up.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Well, well Gilderoy isn't this a turn up for the books?" Rita had a quill dutifully scribbling away while she was free to tap her wand tip against her jacket, changing the brocade pattern across the acid yellow material.

It would seem that her fellow blond journalist had strolled into Jeremiah Snifflestint's home without waiting for his appointment with the travelling wizard. Apparently Jeremiah had found a civil breed of yeti in Mongolia and he was _fascinated_ how this breed had the same mannerisms of 18c British Wizards. He had drawn the only logical conclusion that a British wizard had taught them the social niceties before this stranger had popped his clogs and now Jeremiah was trawling endlessly through missing persons of the 1700s to find this mystery etiquette master… this was what he had been telling Rita in such excruciating detail, that she was going to need a new self scribbling quill. Rita would have gladly taken a Draught of the Living Death halfway through her interview; he was one of the most boring men on the planet. His voice made Binns sound like a race commentator.

"Miss Skeeter what a delight." The smooth voice of Lockhart interrupted her musings on the dullest story known to wizarding kind and she had turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking less than delighted to see her perched on the sofa in Jeremiah's home. "Mr Snifflestint, I am terribly sorry to steal away this lovely lady, but Miss Skeeter and I have a few notes we must compare. I am awfully sorry, will you be able to reschedule?"

"Of course my boy, any chance for you to spend some time with the ravishing Miss Skeeter." Jeremiah had stood and winked in a rather jovial manner at the curly haired pair. Rita was staring incredulously at the honey haired man before her but any good journalist knows to keep her mouth shut and follow the story. Which is exactly what she did.

After bidding goodbye to Jeremiah, Rita waited for exactly three seconds before she rounded on Gilderoy. Her demand for an explanation wavered a little as he smiled at her. He had such kind eyes, that smile was utterly charming and she could see why people at the Prophet really loved him. He had a barely perceptible arrogance that many would probably see as charm but Rita could just see it; she was used to looking for things that were hidden.

"Well Miss Skeeter I think you should be thanking me for ending that interminable interview. How on earth did you cope with that bore?" Gilderoy had continued to walk down the street, turning only when Rita had not followed.

Rita had a lot of questions, but she knew how to play the game so she matched his smile with hers and batted her lashes. Every man chatted a little more with liquor inside him.

"How about I get you a drink to say thank you?"

"That'd be nice. There's a lovely little wizarding pub near mine, shall we?" He held out his arm for side along apparition and the pair vanished with a crack.

~R.S~

She wasn't quite sure how it ended up pressed against the side of the pub, trading sloppy kisses but it had.

They had ended up in The Crossed Wands, which while it wasn't a fancy pub it was certainly a step up from the Leaky. There had been a bottle or two of wine, then Gilderoy had suggested getting dinner while they were there and the pair had opted for the Pie of the Day before sharing a brownie for dessert. Then there had been more wine. Rita hadn't meant to get as drunk as him – she wanted answers from him for his strange behaviour, instead she had found herself laughing and joking along with the honey haired man, snorting inelegantly into her wine glass when he sloshed his glass around speckling them with stray droplets.

Then the pair had shared a look over the rims of their glasses and Rita saw him lean towards her and she was kissing him as he was kissing her and honestly Rita saw stars.

All from one kiss. She drunkenly chided herself for feeling so wonderstruck by a _kiss_ but her fevered mind couldn't help it. Her body wanted him. When they both pulled back from the kiss he gave her a crooked smile and Rita's heart did a funny flip in her chest.

"Shall we…" He had coughed, as if shy. "Shall we go back to mine?" Gilderoy Lockhart, Seducer of Women hated to admit it, but he had been nervous of being rejected by Rita Skeeter. If he was to be ignorant of the fact there was a lot riding on her coming round to his, he actually didn't mind sharing a bed with the vivacious woman in front of him. He had also heard the scathing rejection that she could dole out to any unfortunate man – she was a popular catch in the Prophet Headquarters, but beware to any man that didn't court her in the right way. She had humiliated journalists from all walks, regardless of their position if they had worded their proposition wrong.

"I think the owners of this fine establishment would appreciate it if we didn't shag like jackalopes on the table." Rita whispered, watching the delight flood into his eyes. He stood up abruptly, vanished to the bar to pay the bill and quickly dragged her outside.

After ravishing her at the side of the pub, he'd managed to apparate them to his flat but before he could ram the key in the door, she kissed him hard. She was pushing his velvet coat down his shoulders as he grabbed at her waist, hauling her closer, pressing his body against hers, spinning them to trap her against the door. In his haste he spelled his door open and the pair practically fell inside. They supported one another as they bumped their way through the hall into his lounge and Rita's wanton moans echo down the hall as his kisses turn into bites along her neck. She bares the pale skin for his eager lips while her neatly manicured nails were raking down his arms.

"Need you." He pants.

"Bedroom. Now." She demands, her fingers moving up to knot in his hair. He gladly complies, sweeping her into his arms before carrying her to his neatly made up bed.

~R.S~

He looked down at the slumbering woman beside him. Many hours had passed since they left The Crossed Wands. He stroked one peroxide blonde curl aside from her face. The hardness in her features disappeared as she slept and Gilderoy was allowed this glimpse of a much softer Rita. One who muttered in her sleep, who stretched and curled into his chest, who wrapped her legs with his and burrowed deeper into him. He gave a half smile at her sleeping form and somehow it made his next move a little harder.

He needed Jeremiah's memories, he didn't need _Rita Skeeter_ knowing that he had created this fabulous scheme for getting rich. Journalism was nice but he wanted fame and he was going to use Jeremiah's Yetis to propel him to stardom. But that meant the interview needed to be destroyed. Notes were easy enough to destroy but memories were infinitely harder to alter. Luckily Gilderoy was very good at amending memories. Obliviate was good but adaptions left fewer loose ends. Which is why, as he drew his wand in a complicated pattern over Rita Skeeter's head, the magic that drifted over her would entirely remove her intolerable experience with Snifflestint and instead she'd have spent the day laid up with a horrible case of flu.

Thank heavens Rita Skeeter was a jealous journalist and that she'd admitted to him after her fifth glass of wine that no-one at the Prophet knew of Jeremiah's adventures. He'd have to move quickly to get in before any of the other sharks that coasted around Prophet HQ but Gilderoy was fairly sure the odds were in his favour.

Kissing her lightly on the head, he quickly wrapped her up in his arms and apparated them back to her flat. His memory charms always left its victim feeling utterly awful and exhausted. Flu was always a good cover up for his ministrations. He sighed internally at his inner Slytherin, knowing full well he should have been sorted into the serpentine house as opposed to Ravenclaw… but he would always argue that his wits were greater than his cunning – that his cunning was his support system to his intelligence. He would mentally debate this as he deposited scrunched up tissues, empty pepper-up potion vials and various illness paraphernalia around her bedroom. He also stole Rita's notes and QuikNotes Quill.

Leaving Rita Skeeter alone in bed, Gilderoy had to mentally prepare himself for the horrid few hours he had ahead of him this week to right Jeremiah Snifflestint and embark to "Nepal" for a few months to pretend he was on an adventure.

The things he did for fame.


End file.
